


Myth and Legend

by ClearAutumnVibes



Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Actual Witchcraft Mixed in, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Character, F/M, I have no idea what I'm doing, It's his curse, M/M, Magic, OC-Insert! Mythros, Reincarnation, Scheming, Self-Indulgent, Witchcraft, kind of, oc-insert, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClearAutumnVibes/pseuds/ClearAutumnVibes
Summary: After losing the people he loves, he performs the Fairytale Ritual. He expects it to result to him being better or perhaps  finding a companion to help him deal with the grief eating him up. Instead he wakes up as a child in a Kingdom where witches are persecuted and fairies are hailed. Alone, still grieving, and now a young child, he swears to live up to the memories of the people who couldn't be in his life.His name is now Myth and the world shakes at the change.
Relationships: (Background) Jurien Valiente/Garlan Belrott, Lucette Riella Britton/Fritzgerald Aiden Leverton, Waltz Cresswell/Mythros
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. I Used to Live in a Monochrome World

His heart aches as his steady hands draw chalk marks into the floor. The room is lit by warm candles that bring the scent of oranges and raspberries. It tickles his nose and teases him with memories of sunshine and laughter. Memories that he _clings_ to as tears stings his eyes and leaves salt on his lips.

When he draws another line, he struggles to keep his hand steady as he puts away the chalk.

The Fairytale Ritual has begun.

Taking a deep breath to calm his hammering heart, he sits in the center of the circle to begin. His mouth moving to chant memorized words as his thoughts began to sharpen with trained focus. In his mind’s eye he sees a bright smile on the face of a young girl with ambitions as fa as the moon. He sees a man wrap him up in a warm hug and press a kiss on his temple and _aches._

He can feel it stirring in the air. The pressure, the way his skin tingles and the pressure that _presses_ between his eyebrows alert him of its success. He stumbles on the last line but soldiers through it as a searing brightness shines beneath his eyelids. Shuddering at the way his back begins to heat up, he passes out.

When he wakes up, he is in an empty house with the first light of day steaming through glass windows. A pounding headache has him hissing as he blinks away the haze in his mind. A quick scan of where he is has him still with shock.

He’s in an abandoned warehouse of all places. The windows are shattered glass and the only thing here is the magic circle underneath him and the candles that surround it. He stands up, finding his limbs weak. Shakily, he grabs a piece of shattered glass and _looks_.

Dark green almost black hair, eyes of caramel brown, and a beauty mark close to his lips, all on a baby fat face.

This can’t be.

No.

He… He’s a child?

The pounding in his head doesn’t go away as memories flash beneath his eyelids. He spends 6 hours curled up as he sorted through memories not his own. The only reason he could even handle it in the first place is thanks to his experience with Shadow Work and meditation. Through these memories he finds himself scowling.

“Witch Hunts, _great._ ” It explains why he’s alone at least.

Myth Cyril, the youngest son of the now dead couple, Fable and Legend Cyril. He had an older sister named Fantasia. They were a family of witches who had lived in hiding until they were found. Their parents…

* * *

_“Myth, Fantasia, you have to go!” Fable- No his mother, ushered. Her hands already weaving a portal._

_Fantasia’s hands are glowing as she blinks away tears. Myth is behind them, scared but willing to do anything, hands ready to perform spells and give away magic. His father, Legend, is outside stalling the hunters._

_“Mother, we can’t leave you.” Fantasia sobs. “Please!”_

_“Fantasia, take Myth and go. This is our only chance or else you’ll die too.” Dark yellow flashes and their mother pushes them towards the portal._

_The door explodes and he can hear shouting._

_“Come out Witch!”_

_Fire. Smoke stings his eyes as he squints around, arm waving to gab Fantasia. He can’t afford to lose her too. There’s screaming, loud and ear-piercing. It pierces into his mind._

_“You will not take my children!” That’s his mother, wild and free._

_Dark blue flashes bright. A loud and deep voice. “Get away from my family!”_

_He can smell burning flesh mixing with smoke. It’s rancid. Disgusting. Copper hits his nose next as metal flashes in the light of the fire._

_“Fantasia!” He shouts, drawing their attention but he doesn’t care because he needs to get his sister out before the portal fades._

_His sister appears, her bright green touching him softly as she wipes away tears. “I’m sorry, Myth. You have to live.”_

_She pushes him and he screams the names of his family. Screams and cries because he can’t make another portal, too young to have the finesse. Fantasia smiles at him through tears of her own and suddenly he sees light and hears screaming and cussing._

_He lands in the forest and cries at the loss of his family. Wailing mixes with crowing birds as he mourns the loss of his family all for the sake of paranoia and stories that rip apart a kingdom._

_Myth wakes up and he realizes he has to move. Has to hide or else he’ll perish too. He decides he’ll survive no matter what for the sake of the family that sacrificed so much for him. For Fantasia and her teasing smiles. For his mother, Fable and the hot chocolate she enchants to cheer them up after a sad day. For his father, Legend, who holds them close and laughs that rumble like drums._

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Myth wants to cuss out Hansel Grim’s name.

“First the Fairytale Ritual sending me here, and now he’s the reason why Witch Hunts are a thing.”

Standing up, he finds a bag with food and all he needs as well a notebook filled with writings of him trying to learn magic by himself. He replenishes himself as his mind begins to plan. There’s a war going on against witches and he needs to see how good his magic is now that he has memories of a different type of magic.

 _I wonder what Baron and Katya would do…_ He frowns at the stray thought. Knowing his fiancé, he would probably make a shelter for victims of the war. Heavens knows that man has a heart as wide as the pacific ocean, having hired people that were oppressed or in need in his café. Katya, his lovely daughter, would probably figure out how to be of use in the war with her determination and that sharp mind of hers.

The thought of his fiancé and daughter stings his heart. There was a reason he was pushed to do the dubious Fairytale Ritual and that was because of grief. Now he’s not only lost his family back before the ritual but also one afterwards.

The added deaths only serve to make him angrier at both worlds for taking away what was precious.

With a scowl, he begins to find his bearings, reading though the notebook and taking notes of the magic here. Once he assesses his magical proficiency, he can work to doing what he can to survive. Perhaps, he can try and do something that would make Baron and Katya proud. The thought comes as quickly as it goes but it leaves a planted seed of dry optimism.

Right. Priorities.

* * *

Myth sighed, hiding in the town as he watched another batch of witches burned. Half were hanged and the others burned, people chanting to bring them to justice. Screaming for penitence for merely being. Penitence and their life, the price for not being a fairy.

 _All this for a couple of children’s stories,_ Myth spat at the ground and turned away.

He knew that the Witch Hunts both on earth and here were horrific displays of ignorance and humanity's fear of the unknown. With what he’s witnessed, he’s not surprised there’s a war raging currently. According to Myth’s memories the Tenebrarum Bearer could feel each life and death of a witch. A shudder ran down his spine. He can’t imagine being able to sleep when one could feel death whenever they closed their eyes.

Still, he did what he could because of sentimentality and his own skewed morals.

Already, he’s found the elements here to be more than willing to help him whenever he did any sort of project. Perhaps it’s because most fairies and witches relied on the magic provided by the Lucis and the Tenebrarum. According to theory, the Lucis and the Tenebrarum must be representations of the Yin and Yang, especially considering they’re connected to each other.

As he drifted further and further away from the crowd, he found himself back at the abandoned waehopuse he first woke up in. Now that he’s more familiar with the magic of this world, he can do what he does best and make this place a proper home.

 _There are two goals when it comes to magic._ Myth recounted to himself, knowledge from his previous life is a big help. _Manifestation and enlightenment._

It took him three months to gather the necessary materials for this, not including the preparations made. Paper wards flutter in the wind, having been placed on and around the warehouse. Sigils that urged away threats and prying eyes as well as wards that form a barrier around the house like a net were made with scraps of paper doing little to soothe his nerves. If he’s caught doing this, he’ll be burned with the rest.

Swallowing his nerves and ignoring the way his stomach twisted itself, he used the chalk that came with him to draw a circle around the materials. He’s not too sure this will work but it should in _theory._ Kneeling before the materials, he began the ritual.

The theory is based on the Law of Matter. Matter cannot be made or destroyed, only converted. Judging by that, he can use magic to manifest the materials gathered into what he would be transfiguring the warehouse into. Manifestation relied on both visualization, energy, and _intent_. He already had an idea of what the house he wanted to look like, and the energy would be based on not only the foraged materials in front of him but the Tenebrarum and a reliance on Earth.

And the intent? To make a safe and comfortable home for himself and the unfortunate.

Course, there’s a lot more planning involve in terms of wording and how the ritual would proceed but that’s the basic theory. Now he only has to see whether or not something will come off it.

Taking a deep breath, he began his chanting. As words wove themselves together, he watched the glow of his dark green magic as it encompassed the materials and the warehouse at the base and began to change it. The materials began to eat themselves up as he continued to change it to the image in his mind.

By the time he was done it was late at night, wiping sweat from his brow he smiled in pride at what he’d done.

“I suppose there is a use for the flashy fantasy magic of this world.” Myth sighed as he cleaned up the last bits of the ritual and entered the warehouse.

The inside held a rustic feel to it. Similar to a cabin with tapestries on the side that depicted animals and flowering vines. In fact, Myth had modelled it after the restaurant Baron once owned.

~~_A snicker. Warm arms wrapped around him. “Thinking of the restaurant?”_ ~~

~~_“Yeah. It’s almost done but I’m still not sure about the name.” Lips pulled into a frown, eyebrows furrowed._ ~~

~~_A finger taps the cease of the forehead. “You wanted the restaurant to have a rustic woodsy feel like something out of a fairytale right?”_ ~~

~~_“And? It’s not like I could name it ‘The Cabin in the Woods’ can I?”_ ~~

~~_“How about naming it ‘Marchen’? It means fairytale in German.”_ ~~

~~_Jostling and a brilliant smile. So bright like looking at the sunrise. Dawn. Precious, precious dawn._ ~~

~~_“That’s it, Marchen, I like the sound of that!”_ ~~

~~_A peck on the lips, a smug grin. “You’re welcome, Baron.”_ ~~

~~_“I love you-”_ ~~

Myth wakes up drenched in his own sweat. Caramel eyes snapping open at the dream. Shaking his head he knew better than to dismiss it as only a dream. It was a memory of when Baron and he were still dating.

His hand went up to wipe away the sweat or the tears, he’s not so sure.

“Marchen, I’ll name this place the Marchen.” _For Baron, for Katya, for Fable, Legend and Fantasia._

The house is large enough that he can probably use it to hide the witches that don’t want to participate in the war, those who aren’t consumed by hate. Perhaps he can also include the cursed people since their number grows by the day, it’ll be a good way to spend his time and he’s sure Katya would be proud of him for it. Plus, it would give witches a good reputation if they hear that a witch housed the cursed and helps them as well as the other oppressed witches.

… He’s only a child though, he grimaced, but it’ll do. If they have a problem with him, he can always use the wards to kick them out.

Sighing, he settled back to sleep.


	2. Glass Stained Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting with a fellow witch brings a new opportunity on the horizon.

“Quickly, the Marchen is close.” Myth urged, holding the hand of the child in a near death grip.

The child nodded their head, bright brown eyes shining with unshed tears. The parents are running behind, ready to ward off their pursuers. He can hear their hurried footsteps as they rounded a corner. Their pursuers shouted curses as they headed towards the warded home.

As they run past the barrier and into the home, Myth can hear the shouts of shock and anger as their pursuers lose them. Sighing, he shut the door and turned to his newest guests. The latest refugees had been found out just as he got to them, resulting in the earlier chase. 

“Thank you…” The mother said, shaking and exhausted. “Thank you for taking us in, Merlin.”

“Merlin?” He frowned, “Is that what they’re calling me?”

The father who was currently comforting the child nodded his head. “Yes. You’re the only witch who's been helping us when all hope is lost, a reminder of what magic used to be.”

“Ah.” Myth blinked. _Well, if they insist…_ “Now that you’re here and safe, welcome to the Marchen, home of the unfortunate. There are rooms on the second floor, Flora will lead you to them, if you are in need of medical assistance simply call for Alina. Everyone in the Marchen does their set of chores, if you want to discuss that as well as food, I suggest speaking with Dante.”

The family bowed to him in gratitude which is truly odd seeing as he’s a mere child. Then again, witches always knew better than to trust in appearances. Most of the people in the Marchen are witches with the occasional cursed person that he made sure wasn’t prejudiced enough to hurt the other patrons of the Marchen.

As of right now, the Marchen only had less than a thousand but the numbers grow everyday as the war continues to rage. It seemed as if every person he brings, there’s at least ten people dead or gone to the Tenebrarum’s madness. The thought has him grim but he’s only one man. As a precaution, the only ones who can enter are those who has his permission, as a precautionary measure in case an invasion or a discovery happens. If the war ever ends, he might adjust the wards.

Dante was the first one he picked up, a teenager at the edge of his wits and almost ready to simply join the war because it meant a roof over his head and food in his mouth. After that, he managed to find a way to spread the word of the Marchen’s safe haven. The few cursed people who got inside were anxious at first but soon relaxed thanks to its homey atmosphere.

“Sit down, Myth.” Flora rolled her eyes, holding a tray of steaming food. “You can catch your breath on one of the tables.”

Giving the older woman a grin, Myth hurriedly took a seat and ate his food. Flora, much like her namesake, had hair a dark earthy brown and eyes of a shimmering green. She was taken in when there were only ten of them and quickly became the one to keep things in line. Flora easily slid into the role of ‘reception’ as well as the guard of sorts. Her stern personality made it had to act up and get in trouble, especially after a cursed person and a witch had an argument that nearly devolved into a fist fight if it weren’t for her.

Everyone quickly learned not to mess with her.

“Lost in thought, Myth?” Alina joked. Unlike Flora, who was old enough to show the winkles for it, Alina was a bright red headed young girl the same age as Dante. Her hair is just as bright as her personality as she began to chat away. “I’m not surprised. That was a pretty close call. Anyway, scoot over, you know the drill.”

Huffing, Myth allowed her to do as she pleased. It’s not like he can dissuade her otherwise she and Flora will team up on him. It’s been months since he made the Machen and it pleases him to see it thriving but pains him to see the number of people that continue to come. The latter part has him deep in thought on how to end the war.

However all the ideas he has are either too lacking or too idealistic.

Myth frowned as he finished the last of his food. He’ll have to focus on the Marchen for now.

* * *

_“Hey! I didn’t think you’d make it for this month’s esbat.”_

_“Ah well, Katya’s graduating highschool today so I decided to use the esbat for something nice. After all, the moon is in Aries so why not?”_

_“That’s sweet. What about your fiancé, I don’t think you’re going to surprise him with a weather spell are you?”_

_“He’s with Katya right now, don’t tell him this but I’m going to do a sunshower spell for him, he liked the last time I did it so this should be a nice treat for him.”_

_“Man, you make me feel real single right now. Congratulations anyway-”_

Champagne eyes snap wide open.

Sitting up, Myth held his head and groaned. Three years have passed by and while the Marchen has grown to a bustling rate, he’s still plagued with memories of his time before this. While the years had dulled the ache in his heart he’s still not over it fully.

As he came downstairs, Flora patted his head. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah…” Myth sighed.

Flora nodded her head and gave him his meal. “Hot chocolate should do you good, Myth. I’ll charm it too.”

“Thank you, Flora. That would be nice.” Myth smile, taking a seat at his usual table.

Back on earth, he didn’t have a mother, and the family of Baron turned cold to him after his passing. While he has the memories of younger Myth, it’s not the same as an actual mother figure. Looking up to see Flora serving his food, he smiled back.

“Thanks again, Flora. Oh, is it alright if you tell Dante, I’ll be gone for a while? I’ll be meeting up with Jay later to find out what I can about Brugantia’s status.”

Flora gave him a warm smile and another pat on the head. “Of course, Myth. Anything for our Merlin.”

The title had him sighing. “I’ll be heading off now, merry met.”

“And merry part, Myth. May light and dark guide your way.” Flora replied, picking up the dishes.

Pulling up the hood of his cloak, he stepped out of the Marchen. _Light and Dark, protect me and this whole place._

* * *

Meeting up with Jay is always a surprise and a gamble because one can never be too sure about who Jay will appear to be. Sometimes they take the form of a young girl with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair. They’d come in the form of an old man with shaking hands and a walking stick as tall as he. This time, Jay appears as a playful teenage boy, with bleached hair and searing ocean blue eyes. A laughing grin plastered on his face as Myth approaches him

“Merry met, Merlin. How’s your voice treating you?” He asked, laughter in his eyes.

Flushing, Myth looked away. “Merry met, Mocking Jay. My voice is well, how is the path looking?”

The last time he had met Jay, his voice had cracked. It was embarrassing enough as it is, even without the hyena like laughter in the background. Still, it doesn’t discount how good Jay is at their job. Even now, the spy’s eyes are laughing happily at the thought of the mysterious Merlin in the throes of puberty.

“The path is turning left, my dear Merlin. Beira’s cold heart has turned east and her left hand is as scary a prodigy as ever. We better hope that Bride’s light will pierce through the veil else winter will hit us harder than ever.”

Leaning on a wall, Myth scowled. The war is definitely not working in the favor of the fairies for sure. At this rate, the fairies will lose and the balance will be destroyed. Already the battle is coming closer and closer to where the Marchen hides. At this rate, they’ll use this entire district as a battleground.

“Here’s the status of the war as well as on Brugantia, Merlin. May Light and Dark guide you path, merry part.” Jay frowned, uncharacteristically serious.

Myth took the information and watched them leave. “Merry part, may light and dark keep you safe.”

He crouched down, closing his eyes and focusing. The interesting thing about energy is that energy is all around, everyone has energy. Taking a deep breath, he focused on sensing the energy around him. He can sense civilians, normal humans without a touch of the light or dark that is part of any witch or fairy’s core. He can sense guards, their swords sheathed as they did their patrol.

Frowning, Myth took another deep breath and pushed himself harder. A carriage is passing by and there’s a- Snapping his eyes open, Myth leapt forward, grabbing the hand that was about to catch him. His other hand moved, pressing the back and pushing his assailant down. Myth can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he twisted the arm of his assailant.

“Who are you?” Myth bit out, adrenaline still in his veins.

“Uh… Nobody?” The assailant mumbled.

Adding more pressure on the arm, Myth repeated himself. “Who. Are. You?”

“Ow! Waltz! My name is Waltz Creswell!” Waltz shouted, floundering about. 

Myth scoffed and narrowed his eyes. His grip on Waltz easing up only slightly. “Well then Waltz, care to share what you want with me?” 

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay, can you let me go now?” Waltz tuned his head to look up at him.

Wine red met champagne eyes.

He froze.

Intellectually, Myth knew that some people had fantastical eyes of varying colors and as bright as any jewel but seeing such a deep red left him amazed. Looking closer at his assailant, he realized…

_Waltz is merely a boy._

Surprised, he released his hold and scuttled back further into the alley until his back hit the wall. 

Waltz sat up, twisting his arm around and wincing at the soreness of it. Rising up from his place, Myth paled even more. Not only did he attack a child but those clothes are definitely a noble man’s with how fine they are. The hems are lined with golden thread, standing out against the dark red, the embroidery is well done, with flourishing curves and the clasps are stylized like gems. 

He hurriedly bowed on the ground. “I apologize for my haste!”

“Woah! Easy there, get up. Are you alright?” Waltz approached him, kneeling down and touching his shoulder.

Myth flinched. “I’m alright. But it’s you I’m worried about, you… you won’t tell anyone I attacked you, right?”

“I won’t, after all you were within your flights to do so, you were only defending yourself.” Waltz’s hand moved under his chin, lifting up Myth’s head to get a good look at his face. 

Looking up at the young boy, Myth’s eyes widened and he moved to speak. But the gentle smile on Waltz’s face had him quickly closing his mouth. As the afternoon sun steamed behind him, those jewel-like eyes seemed to sear themselves into his memory. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Myth… Myth Cyril.”

Waltz removes his hand, the touch still there like a brand. Instead, he shows him his gloved hand. “It’s nice to meet you Myth. I hope that one day, we’ll be friends.”

Myth straightened up and stared at the hand. Intellectually he knows he should leave. He should run away back to the safety of the Marchen. He should run away and forget about this. Who cares about some noble man’s child when he still has to help bring other families to safety, away from here, away from this place and into the Marchen or assign some people to smuggle them to Brugantia? 

Despite his better judgement, he takes the hand and allows himself to be brought up.

~~_Laughter in the midday sun, being chased over the hill of a park. “You can’t catch me, daddy!”_ ~~

~~_“Oh yes I can!” Tripping over a rock, rolling down a hill, sitting up and laughing away the adrenaline. Laughing with a little girl as another man runs down to them._ ~~

~~_A hand stretched out, sunlight gracing and softening features with its gentle golden glow. “Are you alright? You took a nasty tumble down.”_ ~~

~~_“I’m fine, Baron!” Hand holding hand, pulling him up, supporting him. A quick kiss on the hand he still holds and a relieved smile._ ~~

~~_“Caught you.”_ ~~

Myth uses his other hand and bushes away the dirt on his cloak. He blinks away the tears that threaten to fall. Why now? Why is he remembering that? Belatedly, he realizes that their hands are still linked and that Waltz is leading him out of the alleyway.

“So Myth, are you lost?” Seeing those brilliant garnet eyes gazing at him had him turning away.

The gaze burns him.

“I’m not. Even if I am, I have nowhere else to go.” He lied. Even if he’s unsettled by this boy, he can’t afford to implicate the Machen in any way. It’ll be easier if he simply pretended he has no home. 

A quick glance at Waltz had him irritated. Yes, that’s right, he’s simply… Irritated. The look of pity in those swirling eyes that seemed to see through him, see that he’s nothing. That he _has_ nothing. _No. That’s not true. I have the Marchen. But, it’s not the same is it? Not the same little family he had left._

“How about you live with me? I can sense you’re a witch too. My master will definitely let you stay if I ask her!” Emboldened by this idea, Waltz brought them to a run.

Myth followed suit, his eyes widening. _Waltz has a master?_ “Wait, what?”

“I’m a witch, you’re a witch, it’ll be fine.” Waltz grinned, turning to look at him.

Myth focused, allowing his senses to each out. He can sense Waltz’s core, a deep wine purple touched with the Tenebrarum’s darkness. The reason he had assaulted Waltz was because his core was almost on par with that of a teenager. It would make sense for a master to take Waltz in with that kind of raw power and sheer talent. 

“No, I’m asking about your master, who are they?” If he plays this right, perhaps he can bring the master into helping the Marchen. It would do them well to have another witch to look after them. The added bonus of having Waltz by his side helps the case.

Waltz blinked and gave him a glance. “I’ll tell you but you have to be quiet alight? My master is Queen Hildyr, the Tenebrarum Bearer.”

Myth stops. _Hildyr? Waltz’s master is **Hildyr**?! _ Like a bucket of ice water had been splashed on him, he knew that he had to protect the Marchen away from Hildyr as well as the sweet boy who calls her master. The first thought he has in mind is to run away but on second thought…

“Why’d you stop?” Waltz asked in concern. 

“Oh nothing, I just, wow. Your master is _the_ Tenebrarum Bearer?” Myth said, tuning his look of shock into that of awe. It’s not hard to fool Waltz, he’s only a child, prodigy he may be, he’s innocent. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry, she might be scary but I can convince her, leave it to me.” The reassuring grin on Waltz’s face gives him a muted sense of guilt. But it’s nothing compared to the rising sense of hope. 

If he can get himself to also apprentice under Hildyr then…

_He has a chance to end the war as a spy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long to write because of multiple factors at once. I had to deal with a brownout, Microsoft word screwing me over and crashing every 2 sentences in, and my own procrastinator tendencies. And now, Myth has met little Waltz, which was not intended since I wanted the fist meeting to be Hildyr herself but then Waltz came in being the sweet kid he is and I figured, this made better sense than Hildyr. I had wanted to skim over the childhood stuff (In fact my first three drafts did skip over the childhood and focused more on the actual canon timeline) but now that I have a solid baseline, I'm going to give the childhood stuff more time to breathe. 
> 
> Since you waited for a long while, thank you so much for youe patience as as well as reading this, have a nice day!


	3. A Simple Loss of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myth meets the Queen and leaves the Marchen.

Meeting Hildyr is like being shot by lightning. 

Her emerald gaze seemed to see right through him. Myth stood still and squashed down his fear. It won’t do for him to blow his chance to actually  _ do _ something about the war. If he’s going to be a self-recruited soy then he has to get used to staring down and calling the Tenebrarum Bearer ‘Master’. Whatever it is she saw, she seems to be quite satisfied.

“And where did you find this one, Waltz?” Hildyr smiled, a sight that should have been sweet instead of sickly.

Waltz brightens up like a puppy that found the best toy. “I found him in an alleyway, hiding.”

“You’ve done well, Waltz. You’ve found me such a talented witch, go to your room and start fixing it up for your new room mate.” She patted him on the head, sending him away.

Excited, Waltz ran off to do as told, leaving Myth alone with Hildyr.

Myth bowed to her. ”This humble one greets Her Majesty.”

Surprised by the court greeting, Hildyr’s smile grew bigger. “Oh my, such a well mannered child. What is your name?” 

Not daring to straighten up without her command, he continued to gaze at the floor. “This one’s name is Myth Cyril, son of Legend and Fable Cyril.”

It’s only thanks to Myth’s past life experience that he’s not tripping over words. After all, he used to own and work at a magic store. He’s got experience with customer service so this is something he can do. It’s only by luck that Hildyr has no resemblance to his previous life’s family, that would have been...awkward. 

Nodding in satisfaction, Hildyr waved her hand. “Rise. You’re well-learned for a street rat and your magical core is large for someone your age. From this day on, I’ll take you in as my apprentice, you’ll be staying with Waltz, any complaint?” 

Rising from his bowed state, Myth replied, his gaze lifting up and looking into those bright green eyes. “None at all, Your Majesty. I only ask to leave and return with what few things I have.”

“Call me ‘Master’, Myth. You have one day to move in, then you’ll be learning alongside Waltz. I expect you to catch up easily.” Her hand touches his shoulder lightly and he shudders. “ _ Go. _ ”

Without further ado, he walks out the door and promptly makes a run for it.

* * *

“Myth, where are you going?” Flora frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Holding his packed luggage, he looks around the Marchen. It’s already been years since he made this place and watched its growth. He always thought that he’d stay here, doing some work and helping the people survive. The many tapestries that cover the walls hold the personal touch of its actual name sake. 

His eyes land on the people he’s gathered, Flora’s green eyes are nothing like Hildyr’s. So full of warmth like the green of the grass instead of lightning, it’s times like this where the tiredness seems etched onto her skin in the form of wrinkles, making her look older. Her hands are clutching the cloth of her shawl, wrinkling it.

Alina’s bright red hair seems almost too cheery compared to the tears in her eyes that threaten to fall. She was always the perceptive one, she must have an idea of what’s going on with how she seems designed to this. Her lips lift up to a sad smile and he’s certain now that she knows something. There’s two notebooks in her arms, perhaps she was doing some inventory when he called her.

Dante is the last one he looks at. His black eyes are narrowed while his lips are pursed in a firm line. His arms are crossed and he’s angry. At what, Myth has a feeling it’s at him...

“I became the apprentice of the Tenebrarum Bearer.” 

Dante’s the first to react, lifting him up at the collar. “You  _ what?!” _

Looking at Dante closer, Myth lifts up a hand and places it on Dante’s fist. He can see the shine of hurt and confusion as well as betrayal swirling in ink black eyes. “The Tenebrarum Bearer took me in as her apprentice. I’m planning on using this opportunity to spy.”

Seeing this, Dante lets him go, stumbling back, he exclaims. “Myth, you’re crazy! _ ” _

Flora reacts just as quickly, her nervous hands clutching at his head and ruffling his hair roughly. “ _ Idiot! _ Are you stupid? Going in the front lines as a spy under  _ Hildyr _ herself? The fairies don’t even know you exist, let alone the fact you're  _ Merlin _ . What about the Marchen, huh, did you think about that?”

Cringing, Myth extracted himself from her grip. “I did think about the4 Marchen! I’ve already planned out Dante taking care of it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to change the tide of the war. Jay’s already mentioned how the witches are gaining more and more ground everyday as the war and the curse brings more people to the Marchen than ever. As a spy, I can leak out the information and who better than her own apprentice?”

“You’re not backing down from this, are you?” Flora asked with a scowl. “Fine. But you aren’t going there without a guaranteed form of communication.”

Alina speaks up this time, holding out the two notebooks in her arms as well as opening her clenched fist and revealing two wooden hair beads. “The notebooks are a two way communication device for the hair beads, well… I made them with a minor illusion spell on it as well as a protection charm, I’m not skilled enough to make it complicated for the protection charm’s only good for one shield and one deflector.”

Taking a notebook as well as the hair beads, Myth smiles. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

A blush appeared on her cheeks. “Divination was always my strong suit.”

“Thank you, but I have to go, the Tenebrarum Bearer gave me a day to finish up everything. I’ve already filed up the paperwork for Dante to take over the Marchen for me and I’ve already told Jay of the fact I’m going to be a spy.” Adjusting the luggage, Myth smiled. “I’ll miss you guys, take care.”

Dante sighed, reaching to pat him on the head. “You’re crazy and this stupid plan of yours will get you killed. So you better be careful or else I’m locking you up in the basement.”

Alina giggled at this, wrapping her arms around their shoulders, she said, “Isn’t it a bit extreme, Dante? Anyway, I’m sure everything will turn out fine, have some faith!”

Rolling her eyes, Flora joined in turning it into a group hug. “It’s times like this that makes me feel so old. If you ever need a place to hide the Marchen is always ready to welcome you back, Myth.”

Surrounded by all the people he’s come to care about, Myth relaxes into the embrace. “...Thank you guys, I swear I’ll find a way to contact the fairies and the war will end before you know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had block on this for a long time and my magic-y butt just realized something about the magic circles and what it means in terms of the magic of the Fairytale land. But besides that's, I wasn't sure how to continue the chapter after he left the Marchen. Thus the solution was obviously, don't! Might as well just end it there and cut my losses or else it would end up being rushed lol. That and I just lacked the motivation to upload or continue ahaha Though motivation can easily be addressed by even a single comment of 'Nice!', I'm not going to be greedy ahahaha I might be busy studying too... Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This was sitting in my files and since I was bored, I checked to see if there was enough of a fandom for this. Turns out there is, so here you go! I have no idea what I'm doing, all I know is that Lucette needs an adult and I have to calculate the ages, which, ugh. I've also decided to add in some actual witchcraft because it makes building on this world so much easier. I'm not sure about the plot since I'm making this as I go ahahaha. Anyway, this is mainly written because I like Myth in the game because I am a sucker for villains but I'm also of the mind that every fandom needs an oc insert for the sake of it lol I've also decided to make sure the Oc has no idea where he is for fun!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading.


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